Boy
by Opera Ghost Kid
Summary: Morgaine Le Fey curses Batman, showing his utmost weakness. Also found on WFWC forums. Crossovers into BTAS TNBA but hey, it's DCAU, and it's Bats.
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the Justice League. All rights go to the big Muckity muks over on DC, Warner Bros., and Cartoon Network. My knowledge on all things magical and mystic should also no be trusted.

This is all for fun.

**Introduction**

It was a dark, stormy night in Gotham, only we wouldn't know that because that's not where our story begins, exactly. In fact, it begins in a dark, sterile room, but let's get on with the story.

---

He woke up.

He woke up panting, bewildered, and, though he'd never dare to admit it, rather scared. But "big boys didn't cry", so he was left to staring blankly into the darkness. He felt odd, and the darkness seemed to be spinning, which wasn't really possible, and, and…

He was seeing stars. Literally. Eyes widening slightly, he glanced about the now discernable surroundings. If the smell of disinfectant weren't enough to convince him, the little machines going 'beep-beep-beep' and the bed he was lying in would confirm any doubts that this was indeed the infirmary of the Justice League Watchtower.

He got off the bed, wobbling a bit. Strange, everything looked a bit funny, like everything was bigger, or… was that… in the corner? _'Can't think,_' images and questions buzzed in his mind, boggling his already confused self. His throat felt like sandpaper, and he needed to pee. _'Who installs a door knob so high up? What's the big idea? It's just a bathroom…'_

After wasting a minute finding the light switch (which was, again, placed unreasonably high up the wall, _'Must speak to Jonn about this'_, he noted), he turned towards the water closet, glancing at the mirror above the sink. He stopped suddenly, started once, twice, and finally just stared. It wasn't just the fact that it was much higher up than usual (though now he knew that it wasn't that he'd somehow landed in a ward intended for the larger species of the known galaxy by accident), or the fact that he was in this horribly box shaped hospital gown. No, it was that, that…

It would be five minutes later that the butler of one Bruce Wayne would find a young boy kneeling on the tiles of a Watchtower bathroom, frozen by his reflection in the Mirror.

"By, George…"

A high pitched squeak forced its way out of the boy's throat.

"--Alfred?"


	2. Prologue

**Prologue.**

**_Gotham: The night before. I lied. It does begin here. _**

_Ever the magnet for trouble in all its weird and not wonderful ways, it should be no surprise that something of the magical realm would occur sooner or later._

Morgaine le Faye had come to steal a jewel hidden in the Vaults below Gotham Museum. Reputedly more powerful than that of which her son had wielded during his embarrassingly short reign of kiddy terror, it would serve her purposes well. For all her evil schemes to take over the world, she was really just an overprotective mother hen who wanted the best for her kid.

Of course, her son had recently broken the enchantment that had kept him eternally youthful, the silly child. With this stone, however, she would not only be able to 'cure' him of the horrors that befell him after his… miscalculated deeds, but finally, finally, would she be able to conquer the earth for her son, her dear, dear Mordred. Never mind the stories that have been told of its users going insane, or worse. It was all, unimportant.

Having most of the Justice League's upper echelon pounce on her halfway through operation 'Gem retrieval' was an annoyance to say the least, and potentially disastrous. Couldn't have that now, could we?

"Fools," she muttered. Having now pocketed the stone, she turned to face them. "What do you think you will gain from this encounter, heroes? This is a lost cause. You will fail," she spoke coldly, "I am already able to harness powers from all the earth's elements, yes, even astatine. _You_ may not have the knowledge of what magicks they might posses, but do you really want a demonstrat-"

A batarang interrupted her, bouncing of the force field that she had created about her.

"Fool!" she screeched, sending a powerful blast of, as Flash later described it, icky looking purplish ray of magic, that pinned Batman to the vault's door. The heroes' momentary distraction allowed her to summon _the_ powers, simultaneously restoring her son's youth and bringing him to her side.

"Mother? Mother what's go-"

"Not now Mordred. Remember the Justice League? Well, I think you'll like this…" with that, the purplish icky stuff turned into a hot white icky stuff, enveloping Batman.

"Head back to when you were most weak  
This I say, so le Faye speaks!"

A groan of agony could be heard from the Batman, even as Wonder Woman turned on Morgaine, "You evil, vile, witch! You'll PAY for whatever you did to him, undo your curse NOW!" A swish could be heard, then a loud 'thunk', as Wonder Woman's tiara cut through the sorceress's robes and whacking the rock out of reach. It flickered dangerously, then turned grey.

"Curses!"

Royally peeved, le Faye retrieved the rock and teleported away with her son before any of the other heroes could get their hands on her. Some would say that she was able to do so because she'd absorbed enough mystic energy from the rock, others that the heroes were in too much shock from the spectacle of magic. Batman would've replayed the scene over and over again, carefully analysing everyone's moves and actions, and finally brood over how much he hated magic. If he were conscious, that was.

"Some anti-climax that was," murmured Flash, "I didn't even get to do anything." He had run to Batman's side as soon as the light disappeared around him, visibly shaken by the turn of events.

"Diana, Diana it's okay. Diana, he's fine, really, look," Superman placed a hand on Wonder Woman's shoulder, guiding her tense frame over to the fallen body of their comrade. Indeed, the Batman was fine, if knocked out. There seemed to be no bleeding, and if Superman's x-ray vision were anything, there was no internal bleeding either. Still…

"It was magic Kal, it's different when it's magic. Remember when Mordred took over that Funseyland place? Or when Circe turned me into a pig?" she replied, exasperated. Eyes trained on Batman, she barely heard John speak through the communicator.

"J'onn, we have a situation, sending up our coordinates now. Batman is down. I repeat, Batman is down."


	3. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1.**

"Hey, Diana!" Flash whizzed into view. Five minutes ago, J'onn J'onzz, Martian Manhunter had completed his medical check up of Batman, declared him healthy, and left the infirmary with a slightly worried look. Superman had been called to oversee certain new instalments in the Watchtower, and excused himself. Green Lantern was already answering a distress signal somewhere of in the Pacific, taking with him Hawkgirl and some other Leaguers.

That left Diana, and Wally West.

"Mocha? It's iced."

"Thanks Wally, but no. I'm just, just very worried about him this time," replied Wonder Woman distantly.

"'Cos it's magic? Yeah you've said that before. Hey, didn't you, Big blue, Bats and GL come across her once before? That time when we were all stuck on huge rocks in some weird dimension thing? I mean, everything went back to normal, didn't it? How bad could it be?"

Diana didn't reply, mostly being that by this time Flash had somehow manipulated the drink into her hands. She gave the cup an offended glance, plucked the straw out of her mouth, and sighed. What were her fears exactly? It wasn't as if he'd broken nearly all his bones again, nor was it that the world was in danger of another take over on the witch's part. From what she saw, that stone wouldn't be usable for a good long time.

Hopefully a millennium or so, not that she'd count on that happening.

They were in the Monitor Womb, but the images flickering off the screens didn't seem to calm her thoughts any. Why did she have this, what did they call it, 'gut' feeling, that something was about to happen? Something bad.

"We should call Alfred."

"Alfred? Who's--- oh, right, right, 'Jeeves', hmm. Want me to go? You look like you need sleep Wonds. Really, I'm sure he'll be fine, I mean, he's Bats! Look at what happened with Doomsday! Or what about that time when he turned the watchtowerintohisownhulkingmassofbatarangishdoom-evenbeingallnobleandlayingdownhislifeandallthoughi guesssupessavedhim and-"

"… yeah, I guess I'm worried too," Wally flashed a rueful smile. Come to think of it, he looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Diana understood completely, and then some.

"It's alright Flash, with his bottomless egotism and methods of intimidation, I'm sure all of us seem to forget at some point or the other that, he's the most vulnerable, physically, of the lot of us."

A moment of silence passed between the two, broken by the Flash.

"Vulnerable, now that's a word I'd never connect with him. Heh, shows how much I know, huh?" he shrugged, "Either way, I'm off now. The butler's got to be told. I mean, what with him being around 'since the master was in diapers' and all. G'night Wonds," and with that, a red blur followed in the wake of the Flash.

Diana shook her head at the image that had come up unbidden with Wally's last statement. Batman, in diapers? Even though she had seen Bruce as a child before, that was just… just…

Something that you wouldn't want to think about, especially since any person nearby would start wondering if the Joker had blown a laughing gas bomb in your face.

She smiled, tension slightly released from her face.

_Wally, you sly, sly, man. I never knew you had it in you._

Somehow, he'd managed to manoeuvre her down the corridors to her quarters during their chat.

Silly guy.


	4. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The rat-tat-tatatatatatatata-tat that could be clearly heard even from the back kitchens drove Alfred to the front door. He checked a nearby clock. _Who in blazes knocks at the ungodly hour of three in the morning? _He turned to peer at the Upper floors of the house. Surely Master Tim hadn't decided to order pizza as a midnight snack? _It wouldn't be the first time, _he mused.

The pains of a butler, indeed.

"Mister West, I trust this visit isn't a social one."

"How'd you? Oh, never mind…" the Scarlet Speedster shuffled his feet, "Say, uh… uh…"

"Is something the matter? Surely there is, something of importance?" A tinge of concern seemed to gloss over the butler's stoic face. Such subtle expressions were usually lost on the majority of the people he'd met. The Flash was one of them.

_Is he angry at me? Yeah, go shoot the messenger. Sheesh, gimme a break! Count to ten Flash… ten… nine… he still there?_ Flash sneaked a peek from his study of his shoes. _Ah… shoot:_

_Bang._

_Biff._

"We, that is, the Justice League, have reason to believe that Batman has been, uh…"

_Injured? Damaged? Disabled?_

"…hurt."

_Pow._

"Hurt? How bad is this… hurt?" Alfred's spine went rigid as he stared at his master's colleague.

"Well, uh, physically, nothing, at least compared to what he usually…" he floundered, searching for a word that just seemed to elude him. 

_Gets? Acquires? Faces?_

"Sustains, sir?"

"Yeah, that, but uh, we had a run in with Morgaine le Faye, and she cursed him."

"And I thought she only existed in the Arthurian legends of old." 

"Really? He didn't tell you about the time—well, I suppose he wouldn't. Anyway, she said something about "back to when you were most weak" or some sort of hocus pocus. Wonder Woman thought it'd be good to let you know…"

By now Wally had got steadily more uncomfortable under the valet's stare. Alfred himself had got steadily more concerned for his ward _'Master or no.'_ It was not customary for the League to inform him of Master Bruce's injuries, no matter how badly mangled the stubborn man had managed to get himself.

Of course, the Flash's choice of words weren't helping in the slightest.

"I wonder… Mister West, would it be possible for me to visit Master Bruce?"

A relieved grin finally spread across the Flash's face.

"Yeah, I was hoping you'd say that."

"Very well, if you would care to come in, I will pack a few items and be with you shortly."

It took a minute for Alfred to walk to his quarters, another to pack a carpet bag suitcase, and yet a third to ponder over a dusty cardboard box that lay atop his cupboard.

"I wonder…"

There was nothing of great value in the box, personally anyway, and the box itself had definitely seen better days. He began to wonder exactly why he was thinking over its contents, except for the fact that something Mister West had said seemed to nag at him.

_Hopefully, he'll at least find some satirical element in my efforts._

It took him thirty seconds to fish through the box's contents, place a few additional items in his bag, and hurry back out to the hallway.

"Shall we proceed?"

Flash spun around in surprise. _Man, he's as silent as Black, Dark and Moody! Why am I even surprised, eh?_

"Hold on old man, bumpy ride ahead. First we run, or rather, I run us, to some weird obscure location, and then our molecules get diced and rejoined as we're teleported up to the big shiny thi-- uh, Watchtower!" 

The butler responded with an audible gulp. Flash grinned.

"I knew there was a reason I'd loathed espionage."


	5. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

"Master Bruce, do get up sir, please."

The boy remained rooted to the floor. '_This isn't happening,'_ he thought. '_There must be some mistake, some sort of trickery involved, some hallucination inducing toxin.' _Eyes wide, he ran through the various possibilities of what might have happened. The only name he could think of was Jonathan Crane, and he had been locked up Arkham for months now, and he'd know because he'd checked it, yesterd—or what ever day it was before THIS happened.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the impossibility. Purple danced before him, shifting in a myriad of shapes; drowning him… enveloping him… '_NO!'_

His eyes flew open, eyebrows pulled towards his hairline, mouth agape as images rushed through his mind. Gotham Museum, a tip off… Morgaine le Faye, being slammed into granite… a bright hot light that burned at his retinas.

Morgaine le Faye: Alternatively known as **Morgan**, **Morgain** or **Morgana** and a slew of related name variants, a powerful sorceress and sometime antagonist of Arthur and Guinevere (courtesy of wiki). That was the 6th century. Now she was just a powerful sorceress with a really weird mother hen complex.

Either way, anything with her in it spelled trouble, no pun intended. One word: magic. He Hated magic. Absently he wondered if it was magic that was causing him to remain paralysed in a manner most unbefitting of a guy meant to scare the pants off the superstitious and cowardly lot of criminals he faced every night. Maybe the Joker had just snuck in and thrown some sort of concoction in his face.

Yes, he was still in shock.

The face in the mirror grew larger and larger, saucer eyed, matching his own. Above, a voice began to speak. He realised he was floating off the floor and began to claw at the air. Something was squeezing him, lifting him, he couldn't escape. He felt trapped, weak, where was Alfred? Now the face seemed to grow smaller and smaller, till it wasn't much larger than the size of a penny.

Then darkness.

"Master Bruce! Oh dear, you seem to have decided to shroud us in darkness sir, pardon me for saying so."

"Alfred! Alfred, there was this thing, and it grabbed me and I couldn't get down and--" Bruce started slightly as he noticed the close proximity he was with Alfred's shirt.

A very rumpled shirt…

…Oops.

"Well sir, I must admit that I'm still trying to decide whether referring to me as a 'thing' could possibly be a compliment. Apart from that I would say that Mister J'onzz assessment of your physical well being has been accurate, judging from what, just, went, on," He could practically imagine Alfred wagging his finger at him in the dark, when lo and behold, one tapped him sharply on the nose, "You've never been one for catatonia, I must say."

He swallowed. "Alfred?"

"Yes sir?"

"This isn't a dream, is it, Alfred."

"No sir, it is not."

"And this isn't a hallucination either, is it."

"Quite right, sir."

"It's real."

"Indeed." The slight quiver in the butler's normally cool baritone was all it took to finally, finally, confirm his fears. After all, denial in the face of cold, hard, facts was never a strong trait of his.

Pale light shone through the east windows of the Watchtower as it orbited past the moon. It passed through the infirmary, illuminating a mirror which held the reflection of a small boy. His head was bowed, and his shoulders were rigid, very much reminiscent of a portrait that had been painted in Alfred Pennyworth's mind one night, long ago, in Wayne Manor.

"I'm sorry, Master Bruce."

Only this time, he feared his words were meaningless.


	6. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Youth**- **_noun_:** the freshness and vitality characteristic of a young person.

Most certainly not found in the individual before Alfred Pennyworth.

Bruce Wayne sat perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall, as he had been for the past three hours. No amount of coaxing on the part of his butler had managed to get him to consume even one morsel of the _blasted cafeteria food._

"This is not good for you, sir, being like this."

"Leave me alone Alfred."

The dull syllables seized the old man's heart. It had always pained him to see his young master fall down the dark path to the murky pits of his mind. Heaven only knew what thoughts constantly returned to torture him, mostly in his dreams, _always_ in his darkest hours. He had always been too introspective, too independent for his own good, only relenting miles past the brink of exhaustion. But this, this was something completely different.

To see him as he once was twenty, thirty odd years ago, so fragile, so small, defeated, it bore down heavily on Alfred's shoulders. Suddenly, he felt all of his fifty-seven years and eight months. His muscles grew heavy, chest tightening, supporting a weight science would say were merely mental, though at times like this he would disagree.

Indeed, he would disagree. Matters of the heart categorised by science were merely excuses for those who did not wish to come to terms with their humanity, such as his ward.

He knelt before the prone boy, beseeching him to initiate eye contact. Bruce's chin quivered, but his eyes refused to waver. Alfred placed a gentle hand on his knee, "Master Bru—"

"I _said_, leave me ALONE!" Bruce's vision blurred as tears pricked the corners of his eyes, slowly growing into a pool that threatened to spill over. He blinked at them angrily, willing them away. They did not.

"I know h-," a rasp cut through the room, breaking the butler's speech once again.

"Know _what_ Alfred? You _think_ you know everything there is to know about me, don't you? You've even said so yourself," Kicking away Alfred's arm, he jumped and ran to the far end of the room, spinning around to meet his guardian's stunned face.

"You know NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING!" He screamed. How would, how _could_ he know? He wasn't tormented by his parents' murder near every night; he wasn't rife with thoughts of the safety of his teammates even as he sat in his office at Wayne Enterprises. He hadn't been turned into a kid, twice, by the same person. His largest failure wasn't manifested in the flesh, in person, after twenty-nine years.

He raged on.

"This was, and is, my greatest weakness. You heard about what Morgaine had said. This was my crime, my murder, my responsibility. I killed them Alfred, I killed them! Just like every other innocent that I could not save, that I will not save because of this accursed state!"

Pain was etched into every fibre of his being as memories long past, suddenly afresh, washed over him, dancing before his eyes, taunting him.

_The shadowy man, the barrel of a pistol, the finger triggering the gun, the bullet spinning, spinning, spinning into his father's jacket, dark red spotting his tie… then his mother's hat falling into the grime and filth, the pearls of her necklace bouncing one by one into gutters, under dumpsters, off her still form. Blood, blood everywhere, the acrid smell of gunpowder in wisps about his head._

He drew his arms around himself, pouring out as much self loathing as was possible, hunching over as if to prevent the world from seeing his now wet cheeks. Like a cornered animal, he watched once again as the images played before him, swallowing, enveloping him once more.

Alfred himself was having difficulty maintaining his composure as he watched his long time friend tear himself apart emotionally. He had never known how to comfort the man he had long begun to think of as his son. Perhaps that dreadful night was his failure also, along with all the years that would follow. Why else would Bruce Wayne decide to don a cape and cowl in the likeness of a rat with wings every night to fight against the psychopaths, murderers, and other scum of the earth?

Surely, if he had managed to be a good surrogate father, he would've been able to ensure the emotional and mental security that his ward had required at that time. He would have been able to prevent the lad from constantly throwing himself into the line of fire… through the most unconventional of means.

He would've been able to fulfill his duty to the late Thomas and Martha Wayne in bringing up their son with the greatest of care, devotion, and love, provide all forms of nourishment that a scarred child would require. Most children who had gone through such ordeals were able to get on with life with the right support and care, he'd read about them, hoping in vain that the Master too, would heal.

Alas, he had not, merely channeling the grief and suffering into an unholy terror of the night, stalking through the shadows to mete out justice to poor fools who had strayed from the law.

Surely, Bruce's forsaking of himself too was his failure. True happiness would never again be attained, savoured, allowed. It was too late for that, far too late. Never again.

He had failed the Wayne family.

Alfred Pennyworth closed his eyes as the melancholy thought swept through him.

How does one comfort a person who mourns the loss of age?

Slowly he arose, arm outstretched to the wrecked boy before him. Bruce watched the man, his tears forming a crooked kaleidoscope view of the man who had been there, just there for him through the years, fixing broken bones, wiping silent tears, waiting for him night after night of backbreaking work.

But what could he do now?

"You can't I help me… can't, can't, help them… someone…"

As the Butler neared him slowly, he continued his litany, becoming more and more incoherent as sobs mixed with words in a wretched symphony of sounds. Again, Alfred knelt before the boy, his eyes mirroring his own grief.

"I couldn't save them… I didn't… I could've… if I'd have been old enough…"  
"Come now sir, please don't shoulder a blame you play no part in."

"…strong enough, quick enough, oh Alfred!" he cried, his tears now streaming past his cheeks and staining the butler's waistcoat as he fell into the old man's embrace, crying into the shoulder of the arm he had so viciously pushed away moments earlier. "I murdered them Alfred. Don't you understand? Can't you see? I did play a part… if I hadn't gone… if I hadn't wanted to take the shortcut… if…"

Alfred remained silent. What was there to say? What words could comfort the lad now? He tightened his grip on the boy, whose knees now buckled, scooping him fully into his arms. As he cradled him, Alfred wondered what would have happened if he had been able to do this all those years back.

Would his Master's pain have dissipated? Would he have been able to overcome his grief?

So many 'if's… but maybe now there would be an answer. Perhaps this 'curse' was a 'blessing' in disguise. Perhaps now he would be able to right all the wrongs he had committed during the upbringing of this child.

"You know Alfred, Mordred said 'You don't know what it's like to be stuck, as a kid!' I… I guess I do now, huh? And by his own mother too… Alf…"

"Hush, child, rest now. I will prepare a bath, some food, and then we'll see what we can do."

As the boy's eyelids fluttered shut, pulling him into a slumber that with hope would not turn fitful, Alfred pondered. He pondered on a boy who never had a proper chance at childhood, a boy who had grown up too fast, a man who had never truly grown up…

…Perhaps.


	7. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

Flash had been lounging in the lounge (accessible only to The Founding Members of the JLA, thank you very much,) when he saw Alfred pass by the first time to 'obtain some food for Batman', as he had termed it. He had asked after him, discreetly, of course, whether Bruce was finally awake, to which the butler had affirmed, but had also subtly hinted that he was not to be disturbed till further notice.

Right now, Wally's head was still spinning from the realisation that he'd actually been able to _get_ all that. Hey, he knew he wasn't stupid, or slow (heck, he was the fastest guy on earth!), or anything like that. Being the youngest, then the youngest of the 'oldest' as it were did things to you, he supposed. Made you act different.

Not that he had act going or anything, or that he was just in it for the food… naw, it wasn't anything like that. But hey! It isn't everyday that you're working with the adults you looked up to when you were Kid Flash and Robin was Dick Grayson. Or maybe it was, as it had been of late. Not without its perks too, he had to admit.

Nightwing's previous mentor still gave him the heebie jeebies. Of course, his long time friend's resentment of the Batman had somehow persuaded him to be, odd, when about the moody guy himself. Cocky? Rude? He knew he'd tried regularly to get the guy to smile every once in a while. Hardly ever worked though, as Bats would just shut him up with that darn, scary glare of his. Foreboding father figure, indeed. Though then… that would mean…

That would make Superman the 'Mom'.

Wally grinned to himself at the picture _that'd_ make.

And that time Batman had thrown the shirt in his face while Wonds was talking to him? Him wondering how he knew what Wally usually wore out of costume?

_Heh._

This burger was good. And there was the butler again… coming out of … the teleporters? Whoa, did that guy know how to run things, he should've known Bats' valet would be as up to date technologically as he was.

Oh well.

Where was he again? Oh yeah, being the runt of the group, the dude with the ' big dumb mouth', the least adept at hiding his feelings, rash, rude, you name it. He hated being treated like 'the lil bro' sometimes. Sure, they made up for it every now and then, but usually? Hey, even the NEW members treated him like a kid (like that obnoxious Green Arrow, for example, sheesh).

Irritated by that thought somewhat, he wondered how Green Lantern would feel if he were treated like that, or Hawk Girl (would probably hit everything and everyone with her mace), or, hey, or Batman!

You know, the kid who would always end up sulking in a corner, go wandering off by himself, not listening to people… arguing constantly…

He could almost imagine it.

"Hey, Flash, what _are _you doing with that smile slapped on your face?" Green Lantern slapped him heartily on the back, nearly making him spill his coke.

"Probably some girl, I'd say," called out Hawk Girl, sidling up against the two, and nudging Flash between the ribs. "That Linda whatshername girl again?" John and Shayera shared a knowing look.

"Linda? No… not her… guys… cut it out man!" began Wally as his cheeks started to burn at the mention of his present crush.

"Why ever not?" came yet another voice above them. _Look, in the sky, its Superman!_

Yahoo?

"Not you too! Aww… c'mon!" Superman merely grinned at him, looking the entire Kansas farm boy they all knew he was.

This was too much.

"Ahem."

And there stood J'onn J'onnz, in all his Martian glory, with a frilly pink apron about his waist and a tray of cookies in his hands, looking perfectly serious.

Flash blinked.

Then began laughing so hard tears were soon running down his cheeks, because this was too much… and because he was now envisioning Superman with that apron round him… and…

Whilst he struggled to maintain his composure, the others shared a conversation.

Telepathically, of course.

_Do you think it worked?_

_What, that Wally's back to his mad self again? Shayera, your name's Hawkgirl._

Green Lantern stifled a groan as the butt of a mace dug into his shoulder.

_Well, I do, and I think we'd all agree that…_

_It worked much better than if I had to masquerade as some… 'Granny'_

_Hey, it seemed like a good idea. I mean, well… _

_Of course, Wonder Woman. Though in all honesty… yodelling?_

_And I actually meant 'that he's much better off when his... um, sense of humour gets to him'_

_Quiet Kal, you're not part of this…_

"Guys, are you having a conversation without me again? Oh, Hi Wonds."

"Um…" The rest of the team suddenly became very busy, all unconsciously grabbing a cookie from J'onn J'onzz tray. _'So much for food,'_ thought Superman

"Uh… we all came to get you actually, to… uh… to…"

Wally thought in amazement at Superman's ability to keep his charade as Clark Kent in a roomful of hungry reporters at the Daily Planet. I mean, look at him, the guy couldn't even formulate a single lie on the spot. Now surely he's had to do that before, since the world can't possibly be full of honest folk. He began to think of all the possible reasons his team mates, or more specifically, the Martian Manhunter, would want to appear so ridiculous before him (I mean, the guy was nearly as serious as Batman was). Did they think he would start giggling like a baby? Wally ignored the voice that said he 'really kinda did'.  
Supes was still trying to come up with an excuse when Wonder Woman saved the day.

"We're going to see how Batman is doing."

That sobered everyone rather quickly. It was times like this, when they were confronted with the fact that despite being an urban legend, Batman was, in fact, very much human, that they wondered at all the sacrifices he'd made to be who he was. Flash wondered if he was being selfish that the thought taking precedence in his brain right now was that they'd actually asked him to tag along. Then the thought how serious Bat's condition might be, seeing how they _did_ ask him, butted in.

Flash sucked in a deep breath.

"Let's go."

As Wally led the group down the hall, he couldn't help but hear the snatches of conversations going on around him. Questions of 'How is he?' towards J'onn, 'What are you going to say' to Diana, and Superman reminding everyone to be patient with Bruce if he got snappy.

Of course, no one talked to him.

The door to the infirmary was closed, the noises behind it muted. Batman's _personal_ ward had not only had its walls lead lined, but also proofed against just about every other super being known to be in existence.

Superman shifted uncomfortably behind him, attempting to see through whatever cracks weren't there.

"Gentlemen, Ladies." Alfred opened the door and greeted them, but made no move to usher them in. "Master Bruce, shall I?" a pause, then the door opened fully, allowing the members of the JLA to enter the room.

Flash blinked.

Along with Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Hawkgirl, Wonder Woman, and Superman.

Then he blinked again.

"Uh…"

"Yeah… uh…"

"Hnh…"

"What they said…"

"Bruce… what?"

That was Diana.

"Good morning to all of you. I trust you had a good night's rest?"

An immaculately dressed boy turned from the window to face them. His eyes showed nothing that would suggest that he had been crying just an hour earlier. Standing straight, he scanned his slack jawed team mates with an aloof arrogance that could only exude from one man, or boy.

Silence meant consent, non?

"Good. Then we shall seek out Etrigan the Demon, aka Jason Blood, NOW."

A cough stopped him as he was about the step towards the team.

"I'd think not, Master Bruce. You have yet to finish you breakfast, for what it is, and you **will** eat it, mark my words."

Wally didn't know who the first one to begin the giggling was. Soon it didn't matter, as all of them were already bent double and choking back the ripples of laughter that burst their way out.

The boy crossed his arms and attempted a glare, but only managed a pout which further fuelled their amusement.

"I _don't _see what's so funny."

The butler's lips twitched into a smile.


	8. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Bruce hated being laughed at.

Bruce hated it when people laughed at him.

Really, really, _hated_ it.

All other variations of the kind included.

Worse still when it was the people closest to you in a situation that just _wasn't_ funny. Or amusing, or well, you know, _funny_. Like a 'funny har **har**' sort of funny. For crying out loud, he'd just been turned into a kid… indefinitely. Minus the fact that all his physical, um, prowess was gone, and that he was now super tiny, no one was taking him seriously, at all.

That really got on his nerves.

He didn't even want to think about the fact that his train of thought was following horrendously close to that of Wally, or Tim. He should've been concentrating on how to navigate himself out of this situation, not stand there like some idiot (kid) and watch them all have _fun_, make fun of him.

If only Alfred had been able to get back in time, they would've managed to sneak to the teleporters, to the safety of Wayne Manor. There, he was hoping he'd be able to contact Blood to help him get him out of this whole mess, keeping it hush-hush at the same time.

Of course, the chances of that happening now were zero to none. Alfred wasn't making matters any easier.

And no, this wasn't funny. _At all_.

"Do you mind?!"

Still they continued, and it'd been a full five minutes. Bruce wondered if it would conducive to conduct a test on just how much air did Metas require to sustain themselves. Would Ray Palmer help him? In his present physical state, he doubted even Robin would take him seriously.

The Flash certainly wasn't, and he was about Dick's age. Would that mean Dick would be laughing his butt off too? Fun at his expense… taken to an entirely new level. One he didn't particularly think highly of.

Bruce crossed his arms. No one noticed. He cleared his throat. Nothing changed.

He walked over to Wally West and stamped on the speedster's toes, _hard_.

"Yeeeeeoooow!"

Someone started to pay attention.

Flash's screaming was extremely effective in calling the others' attention. Perhaps he would look into adapting it into the Watchtower's Public Announcement system sometime. Now though, more pressing matters needed to be dealt with first.

"I want an explanation."

"I thought you wanted to find the Demon?"

Bruce pursed his lips in annoyance at the interruption. Trust West to be the one to remember the little details.

"I did."

"Come now Bruce, I think we all want, and need, an explanation," Diana said. She had been one of first to calm down after Flash's howl. Perhaps the Amazons were very good at masking their emotions quickly. Perhaps it was due to what he had said during their last tangle with Le Faye. Bruce didn't want to go there.

"What is there to explain? She cursed me and that's it. Now if you don't mind, I'll _finish my breakfast_," he glanced pointedly at Alfred, "Then we can proceed to reverting me to my proper, full grown self."

Pivoting on his heel, Bruce marched through the infirmary doors towards the lounge, clenching his jaw at the thought of eight pairs of eyes following his every move. Save Shayera and Wally, his comrades would all be pondering the meaning of 'his weakness' in lieu of his recent transformation.

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment. No, he wouldn't think about the implications

of this alteration again. Better to concentrate on the main problem without bringing all the subtext in along with it.

What was the 'main problem', exactly? _No, don't think about. Don't, don't, DON'T._

He found it unsettling that only Diana, and Wally he supposed, had spoken to him. Surely Clark would've thought of something to say by now, or J'onn, or even John or Shayera. Were they having one of those blasted telepathic conversations _without him_? Not that he enjoyed the presence of others within his mind (no doubt the sentiments were mirrored), but if they were conversing about him, shouldn't he be told?

It wasn't like he really was a real…

"So kid, don't you think _I_ need an explanation?"

Bruce stopped short, rounded on Wally, eyes blazing, fists balled into tight little fists, hissing.

"I am **not** a kid!"

For once, the Flash was not intimidated. This wasn't going well.

"Sure seems like it to me, kid. I mean, why else are they over there," Wally pointed at the group walking slowly behind, "No doubt talking about you up here," he tapped his head, "Without you?" finger coming to rest on Bruce's forehead.

Bruce batted it away angrily.

"Flash, if you're trying to make light of the situation… learn tact, and don't."

The Flash shrugged off the remark with a grin.

"Hey, I've been the immature baby of you lot for ages now, and what's so weird about being a kid anyway? It's only for a while after all. I mean, it's a no brainer right? Le Faye messes up her spell, you get turned into a kid, we get to kick her a-, uh, we get to kick her to the other side of the magical realm, and you get turned back into Mr. Dark-and-Scary-Batguy. Right? No fuss, n—"

Bruce had let out a pained moan, sliding down the metal of the corridor walls, writhing in agony. Wally could only stutter in shock as the rest of the Leaguers rushed to the boy's side.


	9. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7.**

_"J'onn, what's wrong with him?"_

_"I swear I didn't do anything!"_

_"Is it safe to move him?"_

_"Oh no…"_

_"Why is he doing that?"_

-----

I'm stuck in the watchtower right now. I've been stuck in it for two whole weeks. The 'adults' insist that I remain somewhere'safe', that being here, for me to recuperate. I think it's a bunch of crap. They just think I'll get into trouble, or hurt myself by attempting to jump off rooftops and chasing after the Joker or something. I'm not stupid, really, but being eight plus plus just doesn't allow you to have an opinion somehow.

Everyone else knows what's best for you, except yourself. Yeah, and Alfred's become more of a mother hen than ever. It's as if he blames himself for everything that's happened. Everything. Not the 'everything' in the past few weeks, though he did burn the toast once, kind of everything, but the everything sort of EVERYTHING… thing.

Like what happened before.

So now he's given me a little diary notebook, to write stuff in that I don't want them to hear. I don't really want to write in this thing, but I am bored. I'm becoming like Tim. That's scary.

I'm not even eight anyway. Not really.

-----

Bruce turned off the lamp at his bedside table, his breath coming out in one long, drawn out sigh. It had already been a week since they'd tried to contact Jason Blood. The silly Demon had gone on with an annoying little ditty about 'when's and 'time' and 'weak' and turning back the clock and all that mumbo jumbo which didn't interest the boy one bit.

No, Blood was not aware of the whereabouts of one Morgaine Le Fey, but he promised to help, as far as promises go, and that he would contact the League as soon as he had found out. When that would be was hard to tell, as by now they all knew the power Le Fey wielded. Diana was to assist him. They could not enlist the help of the others in the JLA adept in magic. Bruce had made all of them assure him that they would keep the whole matter hush-hush.

Till then he was resigned to wandering the halls and corridors of the Original Seven's private quarters. It was spacious enough, but even Wayne Manor would've seemed too cramped to the restless boy. His 'visions' had troubled him less since that first day with Flash. Going suddenly into convulsions and frothing at the mouth was no longer a daily experience.

He bet the rest were relieved about that.

Dreams still trouble him, though that was expected. Dreams had always troubled him. The only difficulty being eight presented was learning how to muffle his screams all over again. A main part of this 'difficulty' was the constant presence of at least one of his team mates or Alfred at his bedside when he slept. Not that he didn't mind the company, but to have anyone hover over him the way they did was quite out of the question. And all that whispering and hushed tones behind his back, as if he didn't know they were talking about him.

He hated it, this, everything. He could not roam a large Manor as he had done in the past, left on his own to sulk by his loyal butler. He could not mourn, though the feelings were once again fresh, because he knew they were brought about by that cursed spell.

Teeth ground in frustration, he kicked at a door angrily. The metallic hinges were silent as it swung open. Bruce's shoulders drooped as he gazed at the room he had unwittingly arrived at: The gym. His skinny arms wouldn't be able to accomplish anything here, nor would his thin legs, or any of his scrawny frame. Alfred had commented that he hadn't been eating well either. Maybe he was right. Perhaps he should start training again… just in case.

But what did it matter? They would find Le Fey, and everything would go back to normal.

It had to.

Turning back to where he had come from, he ignored the sick feeling that had formed a pit in his stomach, attributing it to hunger. He ignored the mocking question of 'what was normal, exactly?' as he opened the fridge, gazing at the stacks of frozen pizza.

Then he realised that he couldn't reach the kitchen counter. Ergo, he wouldn't be able to reach the microwave oven. The Watchtower, and certainly not this section of the tower, was designed for the needs of a pint sized boy. No one was around to help him, not even the Martian. Not even Alfred.

And this boy realised that he wasn't really hungry after all.

No, not hungry, but scared.

Very scared, and very alone


	10. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**.

"Bats, Bats! Let's go!"

Bruce was just making his way back from the kitchen when Wally whizzed by him, then whizzed back to block his path. He was pacing, very quickly, in an extremely disorientating fashion. The microwave hadn't worked after all, but Bruce wondered if the contents of his last meal would surface if the red blur wouldn't stop.

"Go where? I haven't eaten yet, and could you stop moving, for once?"

"I got you a burger, now come on…"

Bruce felt the corridor fly by him in two seconds. "… We found Le Faye." Flash punched a few buttons in the teleporter console and the scenery soon changed. In an empty field stood the rest of the team, all glancing at each other apprehensively.

Clark stepped forward.

"The Demon will be here to transport us to Le Faye's dimension soon. I won't be going. You all know how vulnerable I am to magic." He looked worried. Was he afraid that 'us' wouldn't be able to handle it? Typical. At least he had the sense not to throw himself at Morgaine, though Bruce had a nagging suspicion that Diana had something to do with that. She could be very persuasive when she wanted to be.

Looking at her now, the Warrior Princess looked majestic in her armour. She smiled faintly as her eyes rested on Bruce. Clark was still briefing the rest. Did she pity him (he didn't want her pity)? Was she worried? Why would she be worried? The Bright sunlight created a halo about her head, glittering off her crown…

"Did you get all of that?"

"Huh, what?"

"Any of the League will be on standby in case something happens to you within the pocket dimension. We are as yet unsure of the effects Morgaine's presence may have on you," the Man of Steel repeated his statement.

Translation: We will be hovering over you like buzzards. Bruce debated on whether he should resent that.

Etrigan arrived in a cloud of smoke, bringing with him the choking smel of burning sulphur. Bruce coughed. Six pairs of eyes swivelled towards him in concern. He scowled at the attention, unwrapping his burger deliberately, feigning indifference. How he wished for his mask, if only to keep up his usually stoic exterior.

"Howl winds howl  
and blow winds blow  
Life feathered fowl  
To Le Faye we go!"

And Etrigan's rhymes were enough to make anyone blanch.

Lighting split the sky as they materialised in a parched rocky desert. A black and bleary looking _appendage_ stood in the midst of it, ashen towers twisting into the sky. How Bruce wished he could smash that thing, bit by bit, stone by stone. He growled softly at the dark clouds that thundered threats of their own. They didn't scare him.

A hand fell on his shoulder, the intent of which was to reassure. It was J'onn J'onnz. Bruce tensed instead, his small frame quivering slightly. A quiet voice in his head caused him to jump. _Stay calm_, it said. How did the man expect him to 'stay calm' with him intruding his mind? Pfft. Narrowed eyes would tell any spectator what he thought of _staying calm_.

Then the Martian spoke. Spoke as in using his mouth to speak kind of spoke. Bruce didn't know whether to be relieved, or annoyed. "You must be prepared for disappointment, Batman," No problem there, his life was filled with them, "You mustn't expect us to be able to defeat her immediately," eyes fixed straight ahead of him, Bruce didn't respond.

"Please Bruce. I know how hard it must be for you," _Sure you do, you're a telepath_, "not because of my abilities, you must know. It has been difficult these past days to establish any telepathic link with you. Be careful." Bruce couldn't help the little voice in his head that hissed that J'onn knew squat.

"Whatever."

The hand withdrew unwillingly. Angry Cumulonimbuses billowed above, coloured blood red. They swam towards the entrance of the castle, the front of which looked like a pistol. A pistol that was going to shoot them, blast their lives away with calculated ease, one by one. And there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all.

Vision suddenly hazy, the boy peered haggardly at his counterparts deep in discussion. John and Shayera had naturally gravitated close together. They looked, happy, even in the face of danger. Like… Mother, and Father. Hawkgirl's locks whipped about in the fierce gale, the auburn looking like his mother's mousey brown in the gloom. Or was that really his parents after all? Who was it they were talking to? Weren't they supposed to be in the theatre? Zorro… Zorro would protect them there, keep them safe from all the bad guys, and guns. The Grey Ghost would come, if he wasn't enough.

Struggling to stay lucid, he stumbled towards them. Hallucinations, that's all they were, just hallucinations. He wasn't sure if they came about from his close proximity to Le Fey, or if it was a mere progression of his _illness_. Mere progression, he would've snorted at the irony if it hadn't been for the debilitating headache that now tormented him. Noise roared past his ears. He clamped his hands to them.

Vaguely he heard someone mention his name, then the Flash was beside him, supporting him. When Bruce lifted his head, he found himself staring into J'onn J'onnz amber eyes, which were swimming in and out of focus at an alarming rate. What he could make of them looked puzzled, possibly disturbed.

"What?"

"I can't read his- your mind!" J'onn declared, half to himself, half to the now silent team.

"Wha--?"

The Martian ignored the boy's half-formed question, directing his attention to Wally instead. "Flash, as soon as," He looked to Etrigan. The Demon nodded, "… as soon as Etrigan opens the portal back to our dimension, get him somewhere safe, quickly," If the Speedster was upset over his task, he didn't show it. Instead his demeanour was perfectly serious as he hugged Bruce closer to him, ready to take off.

The clouds had gathered in a terrible whirlpool of blackened grey about the castle, wrestling each other to draw nearer to the turrets, engulfing the sky above Morgaine Le Faye's abode. It seemed to be gathering force, as if to preparing to strike at the foolish trespassers.

"Hurry."

Blood muttered a spell, warily watching the scene above them. A swirl of orange surrounded the pair, and then vanished along with them. Someone exhaled noisily in relief. He nodded grimly at the remaining four, who rose in the air. They followed from above, as Etrigan stalked towards the daunting structure of a citadel ahead.


	11. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Clark stood watching the setting sun, and exhaled noisily. Even as an adult, it was pretty easy to sense all those traces of 'bossiness' that Diana no doubt had in her childhood. Frankly, he didn't see the need for his _not_ being there. He hadn't been affected by Morgaine's (or the stone's) presence in the Museum that night, and he had certainly fared well enough against her son during their encounter with him.

On both occasions their opponents had supposedly been able to harness _the_ magic's core or some fiddle faddle, and be all powerful, and on both occasions he hadn't sustained any critical injuries. It sure wasn't like Kryptonite. Of course, there was the possibility that by now Morgaine had transformed into some sort of semi-divine being, according to Jason Blood's hypothesis. Diana hadn't wanted to take any chances.

His physiological make up had to be taken into consideration, the 'radiation' caused by magic might not cause pain, but it could cause harm. Now that he thought of it, perhaps Le Faye might have known of it when she sent them to fight her son, somehow managing to increase his resistance to magic during that period. He wondered why no one found it odd then. Maybe Bruce had later on… noting it down in his logs as he knew he would.

He sighed again. His team meant well.

A thought bolted through his mind, jolting him. He was the only founding leaguer presently on the planet. What were they thinking when they roped themselves into this? Surely… even if Bruce wanted to keep things quiet, they shouldn't have needed _all_ of them. Was Morgaine really that strong? Perhaps it was then a good thing that he did not go with them.

Two milliseconds later a blue and red streak filled the sky of the now empty field.

----

"Why have you come?" a weary voice greeted the heroes as they approached the castle's main chamber. Their entrance through its gates had not been met with resistance; its hallways empty save for the flickering torches. Etrigan was highly suspicious of the whole affair. 'Traps, traps,' he would mutter, much to the chagrin of his fellows.

Everyone was on their guard, tense, too tense in some cases, but nothing had come their way. They had been able to reach Le Fay without any trouble. Something was amiss. Now they had crept their way to where Le Fay was, and still nothing. Diana felt close to wringing her hands, but kept them in front of her in a defensive crouch. Hawkgirl was ready to swing her mace at the shadows when the voice had pierced through the silence. It repeated itself.

"Why have you come? Blood, why bring you these _heroes_ here?"

Etrigan snarled into the arches. The rest peered round the columns to find Morgaine draped across a throne in the middle of the large room. They had never seen her so… tired, before.

"It is no good, beast, I would not help you. Besides, I cannot."

"Then die!" Etrigan lunged forth. This opportunity had taken centuries to surface. His only chance at redemption was the death of this vile woman.

"No!" A hand shot out to stop him, it was Diana. She turned to face Morgaine, "What do you mean?" Shayera and John flanked her, on guard. The Martian stayed behind in the shadows.

"I am weakened, mortal. Is it not obvious? Ask your green friend there, I am so weak even he is able to read into my mind." Morgaine pushed herself upright as the party advanced. The clouded gem lay in her hands, grey mist swirling in and out of it. "You see, I underestimated the powers of this earth. Perhaps I should have exercised a bit of prudence that night, but no matter. I have eternity. It is a pity, though, that my most of my energy has been stripped for a good few decades."

"What about Batman?" John spoke, eyeing the lady warily.

"Surely you can reverse the spell," Hawkgirl chipped in.

Morgaine laughed, a low chuckle drawn out into a high pitched scream that resounded through the empty stone room. "Reverse? Spell?" she wheezed out at last. "Do I look able to? Besides, the spell is such that even if I did have enough power, I cannot reverse." The members of the League looked at each other, uneasy. Etrigan growled terribly, pacing past the grand seat with violent, mad steps.

"Such temper, my suitor. Surely this is not too _difficult_ a task for the great Jason Blood. The spell was _English_, after all."

"Wretch!" The enraged demon threw a punch at Le Fey, only to find his efforts stopped by a force that propelled him backwards, leaving him gasping on his knees

"I said weak, demon. Not powerless." Le Fey's smugness was apparent. A form stepped from behind the throne: Mordred, her son, smirking. "My son has graciously allowed me to borrow his magic."

"Let's go. She is of no use to us," J'onn said, turning back towards the doors. Glances were shot back to the wicked duo, but the rest of the team followed suit. Etrigan lingered a while longer, glaring and gnashing his teeth at his nemesis.

"Leave," said Mordred, "Tell Batboy to come play some day."

----

"You ok?"

Bruce lay on the grass, heaving and panting as the Flash knelt beside him. Sweat beaded his forehead, his jaw was clenched so tightly Wally near fancied it would break. He shook him gently.

"Hey kid, kid, snap out of it."

The boy could only groan in reply, reaching out frantically to grab the air. Flash, disturbed, brought it to himself and held it, squeezing it slightly. Shushing the boy, he started rocking Bruce back and forth as the boy wheezed back into lucidity. "It's alright, it's alright, it's alright."

Bruce opened his eyes, and stiffened, but he was too weak to scramble out of Wally's arms. He settled for another groan instead, squinting a peek at the speedster. West looked... concerned. Brilliant. These whatever-they-were-_things_ really had to stop. He hoped the team would be back soon enough with some potion or spell to cure him. Not that he liked involving himself in magic, but in this scenario he couldn't see any other way out. The boy gazed out over the field, not liking the lack of options he was being presented with, not liking the sense of helple—

No, it wasn't good dwelling on. He glanced up at Wally, "I'm fine."

"If you say so, for a mo' there you looked like you were going to pass out," Flash said, propping Bruce up, leaving the 'again' unsaid. Bruce ignored it with a slight shrug, attempting to rise and brush himself off.

Then a strange rumbling was heard. Bruce froze as Wally West chuckled.

"You must be hungry, heh. I guess that burger didn't make it's way back with us," the Flash announced. "So uh, we should get you some food kid..."

"I have a name," Bruce stared up at Wally, "It's Bruce."

"Bruce. Right. Bruce. Okay, Bruce, (man, I have to get used to this,) let's get some grub eh, shall we?" Wally started picking at his costume, this miniature Bats was getting to him. How did the League expect him to look after this guy?


	12. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"We'll head back to my place first, then go out and get our lunch," Wally said, slinging his arm around Bruce in preparation for take off. Three blurs later they were standing in front of the door of Wally's apartment. While Bruce was still reeling from the trip, Wally muttered a 'Gimme a sec or two,' before racing into the shambled mess of his humble abode.

_Get the clothes along the way, turn on the tap, dump the clothes in the washing machine, get the plates to the sink, yes, water's flowing now, get detergent, dump in machine, turn on, grab hoover, plug, turn on, scrub plates a bit, grab hoover, run to the living room, pick up large pieces of trash along the way, dump in can, go back, repeat, repeat, repeat. Leave clean plates on the rack, put kettle under tap, pack away hoover. Take out kettle, turn off tap, plug in kettle, and switch on. Hmm. Straighten rug. Done!_

"Sorry, that took a while. Twenty seconds, not two. Technology's not that fast yet… and…" Wally looked down to see Bruce staring up at him, perplexed. "Yes, well, come along in, then."

Bruce inched his way in, feeling rather lost once again. West's apartment was on the modest side, not as large as even Dick's Bludhaven residence. He'd come by only once before. Now Bruce rested on the edge of the couch, looking about him. He took in once again the simple furnishings of Wally's home, curious as he'd always presumed Flash would be living the high life, what with him seeming to enjoy the limelight his city offered. Rather like Bruce Wayne.

"Like it?" Wally asked from the bedroom. "Not like yours, I know. But you, you're different." A casual shrug and smirk, and Wally sped back to sit on the couch. "Me, I'm just a lab dude." Bruce made a slight lift of his shoulders in acknowledgement, staring at the coffee table. Wally scratched his chin in thought.

"Hmm, you know what? Let's just eat here. I'll make some peanut butter and jelly, some popcorn, and we can watch a movie or something. Listen, there's this old TV show that ain't bad," Wally checked the video rack. "Yeah, here it is. 'The Gray Ghost'".

Bruce tilted his head, looking straight at the Disc's cover, smiling ever so faintly.

* * *

Alfred had just finished packing Bruce's belongings in his Watchtower residence. He sighed, glancing about the pristine, metallic room. Nothing but sterile cleanliness for the Batman. For two weeks the butler had made enough trips through that _awful contraption_ from the Manor to the Tower to last him a lifetime. No one was to see him, of course. Sent him through the founding seven's _private_ machines, the only relief being that no one would catch his rather green features on coming out. Teleportation indeed, Alfred had huffed.

Bruce's butler couldn't stand the Watchtower. It stank of disinfectant and burnished metal, the sort you find in wards just cleaned after the previous, now deceased occupant has just vacated it. Perhaps he was letting his thoughts get away with him, but the synthetic nature of the place unsettled him. Better to be at home with wood and glass that constantly required dusting than this unnaturally –bright and sparkling- place. Even Batman's dark hide hole was a better alternative. Alfred could see why his master preferred to work in his own headquarters even for League missions.

His eyes roamed to rest on the soft items of clothing that had never been used during Bruce's stay. A soft black felt mask, a grey cape made of cotton, and a simple fedora. There had been no cause to pass it to his young charge during his stay at the Justice League headquarters, the boy seemed in no mood for anything that seemed trivial. He was not about to cause the lad anymore grief. The boy had withdrawn so much after that one night of outpouring that the most Alfred could do was give him a notebook, hoping that if no one could talk to him, he would at least find some way to confront himself and his fears. Silly notions of an old man, really, but what else would Bruce allow him to do?

"_Alfie, Alfred! Is it done yet, is it done yet? Father, Father come see! Mother, did you really make that?" A young Bruce pranced about the room, bouncing off furniture at an alarming rate, chattering gaily to the three adults with him. Thomas Wayne had just entered the living room when he was greeted with an energetic bundle of overalls and tousled black hair. Rumbling out a chuckle, the good doctor scooped up his chirping son onto his shoulder, spinning them both about the room. The boy laughed and squealed in delight._

_Martha sat on the couch next to Alfred's chair, putting the last stitches into her son's birthday present. Alfred himself was giving the fedora in his hands a few solid pats, squinting at its shape in a critical fashion before smiling to himself in grim satisfaction. "All done, Madam. Shall I prepare the meal now?" he asked his mistress, who nodded, a smile spreading across her face at the sight of her son. The young master was bounding across the room, ready to fly into his mother's arms._

_Alfred feared for the china teacup that sat nearer to the edge of the tea table than he'd have liked. He rescued it just before the table rocked from the effects of Bruce's crashing past into his mother. Clearing the rest of the tea set, he strode to the kitchenette to deposit them and to retrieve the child's cake. Dr. Wayne snuck over to the switch panel, dimming the lights to nothing. Bruce giggled in excitement at the glow coming from the far end of the room. The candles flickered closer into perspective, light illuminating the faces of Martha and her son._

"_Happy Birthday, Bruce."_

The old butler smiled at the memory of Bruce's seventh birthday. The boy had been ecstatic with his new costume. He would wear it for countless Gray Ghost episodes after. Even Bruce's next obsession did not spell doom for the outfit, the cape served well as part of Zorro's costume as well. Alfred recalled Bruce badgering his parents to take him to the pictures to watch 'The Mark of Zorro', and his smiled waned. It was to be his eighth birthday present, a week and a half early.

_A cake had been prepared on the day of Bruce's eighth birthday, but Alfred saw no joy in the boy's face as he blew the candles out, not in celebration but out of obligation. His eyes had shone, but not with the gleam of delight that graced his face just a year before. His very footsteps were deadened, soft thuds falling about the manor as he wandered through the vast halls, stopping often outside his parent's bedroom. Alfred could only watch as Bruce stared at the ornate carvings of the door handles before making his way back to the main wing of the house._

_Was there no consoling the boy? Alfred was not prepared to take on a situation like this. 'He had not been hired to deal with his employers' deaths, or the aftermath. He was no parental figure! Yes, he had helped the Madam care for her son, yes, he often took charge of the young sir, Yet...' Alfred dabbed at his forehead, calming himself. Now was not the time for self-doubt. No, he couldn't disappoint the Waynes by _abandoning_ their son._

_As he was replacing his handkerchief, he bumped into the day's paper resting on a nearby shelf, causing it to flutter to the floor. He bent to pick it up, noting the day once again, Thursday. He checked his pocket watch, twelve minutes to seven. Perhaps it was a good time to offer some distraction for the boy._

"_Master Bruce I believe there's a show on tonight you might like to watch," Bruce glanced up from where he had been sitting at the window seat, features pale in the dim of dusk. Bruce slid off the seat with a slight frown._

"_I'm too old for that now, Alfred." However, the television set had already been turned on and tuned to the required channel. Bruce wavered, but sat down in front of it in the end. Alfred soon returned with a bowl of popcorn, which the boy accepted._

"_I'll be right here if you need me, Sir," the butler said softly before drawing up a chair and perusing the Gotham Daily. The boy soon lost himself in the show, peace smoothing out his face as he fell asleep. Alfred had not seen such serenity on Bruce's face in the past week, and was glad of its presence once more._

"_Many, Happy returns, young Sir."_


	13. Chapter 11

"There! See? I told you he would hide behind the crate and jump the guy," a very self satisfied Bruce Wayne informed his caretaker. Flash grinned and waved him off.

"Yeah whatever you say, big guy."

Bruce nodded, sinking into the couch with the movement, face serious as he watched the screen. They'd been through nearly half the episodes of The Grey Ghost. Flash's interest had waned considerably, and had made tuna sandwiches, hot chocolate, bought fried chicken, eaten it, and was still slightly bored. He liked the show, he really did. He just couldn't do the same thing for two straight hours. By 'same' he really meant 'same', not 'same' as in some operation that required a multitude of tiny actions in between. That, he could handle.

But this, "I don't understand how you can just plonk yourself right there and do nothing for what, three hours?" Flash asked Bruce, eyebrow arching at the boy's scowl.

"It's not 'nothing'," Bruce harrumphed. Wally resisted the sudden urge to ruffle the boy's hair. There would be no end it if he actually dared to touch the de-aged Dark Knight. The kid was kind of endearing when he wasn't trying to glare his team mates into, well, what had it been the last time, stop staring at him drinking his soda? Wally shook his head, smirking at the memory of a tiny stamping foot that had landed on his own.

"Hey, you're not that bad a kid to hang around, you know that right?" Wally tried after a moment. Bruce's eyebrows knit for a moment before glancing at the speedster.

"Not really, no, no one really 'hung around' me."

Wally winced. Oh. The line spoken had been devoid of malice or irritation, but that was what stung. It was smack of the orphanage children he regularly saw when they first came arrived at the home, ever so to the point. That was life, wasn't it? Flash wondered how Batman ever was this child with eyes too old for him and a weight too heavy on his shoulders. Even as his eyes were glued to the screen, even as he animatedly punched the air each time his hero triumphed, there was something strained in the posture, something too seeking in the face that drank in the constant battle of good versus bad on the screen. It wasn't that he was locked in a fantasy, Wally thought, it was more that reality had become so mundane, meaningless, where else was there to go? Introspection never bode well with Wally. He preferred the fast life, running around rounding up various evils and stowing them away till next time, cheering up his city, working in the lab, eating burgers. Thinking too much would draw him into a cycle of information and thoughts he'd hoarded over the years, and at the rate he actually sifted through all that, it was slightly too much. There was a reason why he always chose to savour food over thought. Yes, but that did not explain why he was presently analysing the conundrum that was Bruce Wayne. He barely noticed that the disc had finished and both he and Bruce were staring at a now blank screen.

Bruce for his part, slouched back into the couch in a manner very uncharacteristic of the imposing figure he would be- was. No longer was he in a boy suit and tie. Alfred had wrangled some of Dick's older clothes, and a few of Tim's, and Bruce was now dressed in scruffy jeans fraying at the bottom, a grey t shirt that had seen better days and a black shirt over it with the sleeves rolled up half way. He looked, to Alfred's consternation, like a regular 'rag muffin'. Bruce hadn't minded, not if it meant he wouldn't get stared at so often when on the street, unlike the day before when Flash had insisted after a while that they went out for a meal. There was nothing in the house, he said, and the other heroes weren't yet back from where ever they had gone, or at least, had yet to come in search of them. It had been excruciating at the diner, the sight of a sloppy youth and impeccably attired child eating hot dogs and drinking milkshakes entirely incongruent with Central City's inhabitants. Bruce hated the attention, as well has the tight shoes, the tight collar, the table's height, the seats' height making him unable to reach the floor, concentrating in a sulk on the mustard and tomato sauce over his bun instead. It was wonder that he'd been able to stand Gotham's press for so long as an adult, he had mused, scuffing his shoes as he kicked out at the table leg.

Now he reached out for another piece of fried chicken, slightly winded himself from watching five episodes of 'Gray Ghost' in succession. His colleagues had met them at Wally's apartment the day before, with unsettling news. The curse could not be reversed. Le Fey was too weak to try anyway, Mordred was a stuck up little brat (that was from John) who needed a good smack on the head (that was from Shayera), and they still didn't know what was wrong with him. Bruce hadn't realised his nails were digging into the worn couch until Diana had placed a hand on his shoulder. Grim faced, he only muttered that 'there must be something. We're missing out on something' to which more worried glances had been exchanged. He had ignored those. It was then that he realised all the core Justice League were involved in this drab affair, and not without concern. Surely someone needed to take care of things, Kent wasn't enough for sure. Just Blood, and Diana, and uh, and Wally, would be enough. John had looked nonplussed while Shayera nudged Wally playfully in the shoulder. Diana had smiled ever so softly. Bruce had ignored them again, choosing to dig his heels into the carpet. J'onn had already stationed himself at the Watchtower, and the League sans Wally and Bruce were soon teleported up.

"Wally, what do you think Blood will come up with?" he asked unexpectedly, putting the previous day's events away, for now.

"I don't know Bats," Wally said, mouth full of fries, "It's an _English_ spell, that's about all he kept muttering, and something about syntax and grammar and all that."

"I've half a mind to call Alfred and ask for one of Tim's textbooks."

"Aww don't do that, he already rushed by last night with the clothes didn't he? Don't tire the poor man out kiddo," Wally said while poking him in the shoulder with a grin on his face.

"Yeah that's why it was only 'half a mind to', West." Bruce crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, choosing to attack the tartar sauce instead of the person beside him. All this junk food would have wound Alfred up in seconds. But that was the advantage of staying with Wally West for now, wasn't it?


	14. Chapter 12

"Hey kid." It took Wally a second to spin around and sidestep a friendly punch aimed at the back of his head. Dick stood there, leaning with one hand on the door jamb. The previous Robin stretched backwards with a yawn. "Man, I'm drained. You know after fighting half of the old man's gallery when I was younger, I'd have thought rounding up a few burglars each night for him would be no sweat. Guess not. Have you any idea how many of them there actually are? It's like they know he's gone or something."

Wally stood there, groceries in hand, not daring to say anything. Bruce was only a few feet away, fresh from a shower with his hair flopping slightly over his eyes. He stopped in his tracks. Noticing something amiss, Dick peered over Wally's shoulder from the doorway, and grinned at the little boy.

"Heya little guy! Wally, you didn't tell me you had guests around. Babysitting again eh? Who was it the last time, that really smart mouthed maniac, some kid who belonged to one of your colleagues away on a conference for the day?" Wally was still frozen at the doorway, desperately running through a dozen plans with which to stop the situation getting any worse. Then it did.

"So, what's your name then? And whose kid are you this time? I'm Dick by the way," Dick had made his way over to Bruce, still with sopping wet, mussed hair. For his part, Bruce looked like he was ready to bolt straight from the flat and into the street as fast as he could.

"I'm... I'm Tom," he said, as Dick clasped his hand in a shake, "and I'm no one's kid." Truth wrenched from him when he least wanted it to, 'way to go Bruce', he scowled at himself. The scowl translated to his face, something both Dick and Wally noticed. Immediately placating, Dick placed both hands on 'Tom's shoulders,

"Hey, hey, that's alright! We can be buddies, yeah? I'm no one's kid too. Tom, Dick, and Wally! Okay, not Harry.. but still," Dick fumbled about for a moment when a snort was heard, then a snicker, coming out from the boy in front of him. He looked at the giggling child in surprise, then grinned.

"Dick, that was so... lame." Bruce managed between peals of laughter.

Half an hour later they were strolling along one of the city's major parks. Dick wondered at the greenery and contrast with Gotham's own attempts at increasing social spaces safe for everyone. It just didn't happen in Gotham. Every new park sanctioned by Wayne Enterprises soon turned into a deserted wasteland governed by small time gangsters at night. The better off citizens sent their children to day cares protected by a level of security enough to rival Metropolis' banks, and the general climate of the city was one drenched in hopelessness and fear. Central City was like a green meadow with chirruping yellow birds out of a Disney movie.

"So we've got pizza, coke, fries, and we are so going to picnic!" Wally announced. Bruce had kept silent most of the trip, mostly to prevent Dick from recognising him in any way. Hair now dry, he kept his fringe over his eyes. So far so good. Now to see how much truth he could reveal if pushed for it. Generic orphan story, lost parents in car crash, but, but no, as soon as he thought of his parents he saw that dark alley replayed over in his head again. He'd have to go with that then.

They sat down under the shelter of a tree where a cool breeze was blowing past. Dick was in an excellent mood. Tim and Babs were keeping watch over Gotham and he knew they'd be able to do a good job. There was that slight twinge of jealousy at the thought that Bruce never had really let him go solo as Robin, or was that really true? It'd been so hard trying to bury all the past hurt Bruce's faults had imposed on him as a child, so hard thinking Babs, and then Tim, was there to replace him, when really, if he figured right, he was the one who chose to leave. Then again, he'd left because the Batman he knew had turned into a machine incapable of love or mercy. Funny then how everyone else continued to stick by him.

That wasn't going to damper his mood though, not now in sunny Central City. He'd leave brooding to the big ole Bats himself, and enjoy his time off ('Crime never takes a day off' he'd hear in his head every time he thought that). He turned his attention to Wally's young charge. "Hey Tom, what's your story then?" Years of training both under Batman and at the police academy allowed him to see the immediate tightening of the face in the boy, traces of fear and a precursor to clamming up. "Hey," he softened his tone, "I'm no one's kid too, remember? My parents died when I was about your age."

Bruce couldn't help himself, "What did you do?"

Dick paused a moment before sounding his words out slowly, "Well, I cried a lot. Then someone, huh, well, someone took me in, and cared for me, said he was sorry for what I'd gone through, 'cos the same thing had happened to him too. Hey Wally, whoever knew the big guy had a heart, eh?"

This was getting increasingly awkward for Wally, who wasn't quite sure how Bruce was taking it either. The boy had gone silent, and didn't quite seem to register Dick's words as being about himself. Over the days the League had got used to Bruce's perceptions falling back in an amnesiac fashion back to knowledge only of things prior to his eight year old birthday, but with someone actually of his family there in front of him, the disconcertion came back two fold.

"I wish I could've saved them," a small voice ground out. Dick looked sadly in understanding at 'Tom'. "I was just too weak to do anything."

Dick put one arm around the child's shoulder comfortingly, "Hey now, that's not true, is it? You weren't too weak, you were incredibly strong. You got up again didn't you?"

"But I should've been able to do something, before anything happened, I saw them die..."

"Sometimes, sometimes life throws things at us that we can't control, right? Like, uh, like when you come to a traffic light and it's red, and you have two choices, you could choose to cross anyway and put yourself in danger, or you could choose to wait till it turns green. So the fact that you don't cross makes you smart. And if everyone tried their best to keep your parents alive, as best as they could, then that was what made them strong, even if they couldn't be saved... it didn't make anyone weak, because they did what they could... are you getting me? You're a smart kid, you'll figure it out."

Bruce was silent, except for the occasional sniffle. Dick decided to continue, "So it's like, with them gone, you had two choices, to stay there, or to get up and move on. You got up, right?" a tentative nod from the boy beside him answered. "Right, so the fact that you managed to get up showed that you were, are, strong inside, doesn't it now? Seeing them die must have taken every ounce of your will and strength. If you were weak seeing them die, you wouldn't be sitting here having this picnic now would you?"

The sniffling stopped after a few minutes, and Dick smiled. He knew it was impossibly hard for an orphan to come to terms with their parents' death. Survivor's guilt was something he was all too acquainted with, and if it hadn't been for Bruce and Alfred he wasn't sure what sort of self destructive behaviour he would have engaged in. "There now, let's wipe those tears, shall we?" He brushed back the fringe of the boy's face, then stopped, hand still poised at the side of it. Something about that face...

"Hey have we met before? You look like someone I know."


	15. Chapter 13

a/n: thanks to all reviewers and those who've added me to your update list! This little project of mine has been dragging out a long time, really glad you're up for giving it a chance. That said, we're hopefully nearing the end very soon! And yes, Bruce calling himself Tom was a nod to his old man.

Chapter 13

Trouble. This was definite trouble of indefinite gigantic proportions. He should've shaken Dick off the moment he stepped through the doorway, dumped him at the Flash Museum or something, and not thought it would be all fine and dandy just because little boy Bats had laughed the most adorable laugh he had ever heard when the aforementioned Dick Grayson had conversed with him. The fact that he had thought, no, even considered that little boy Bats was adorable in any way was probably trouble in itself, and he really should have noticed that. Only he didn't, and got into his mind to take them all out on a grand trip to the park that was evidently going to end in disaster with Dick finding out about Bruce.

Wally's fears were allayed for the moment, if only because a scream could be heard from beyond the fountain. The focus of the trio shifted immediately to the source of it, Wally already with his costume on and speeding to the aid of a middle aged woman trying to wrestle her handbag from a burly teenager. "Now look here, lady, I just wants what's in the bag right. Just give it over and no one gets no hur-" Fist collided with jaw and the youth was sent sprawling into the grass. Flash did a mock dusting of hands before hauling him up by the collar.

"You really should know better than to steal, chum. And in broad daylight too? Tsk tsk." By this time Bruce and Dick had caught up with him, and were edging about the circle along with other bystanders. The Flash had unceremoniously dropped the would be robber on the pathway again, as a park warden charged up to restrain the youth till the police arrived. "All in a day's work, folks," Flash grinned at his audience before scooting off behind a cluster of trees only to emerge as Wally West back the at the fountain round the other way without anyone being any wiser. The crowd dispersed slowly, leaving just Dick and Bruce.

"Well that was some distraction, wasn't it?" he breathed out on reaching them. The glint in both their eyes worried him. Bruce's contained an unnerving hunger Wally couldn't quite place, while Dick's slightly narrowed eyes told him the action hadn't been as distracting as he'd hoped.

"Uh huh," Dick replied casually, "Isn't that right, Tom? Or should I say, Bruce?"

Bruce's retort was immediate, "Dick, you don't know what's going on, just shut it."

"The least you could've done was tell one of us! I can't believe I thought you were a proper kid. Good acting there Bruce, master at deception and disguise aren't you, always one up against us." The young man who minutes ago had been warm and kind was now tense with rage.

"Hey, hey guys, cool it," this heated scenario wasn't exactly what Wally had in mind.

"Why, Wally, Why? Two weeks with NOTHING to Barbara and Tim, not one word! I know League missions get long, but surely he could've sent a message other than one through Alfred that he was 'away on business'. He's always leaving us in the dark like this. If he really was away it'd be fine, but he's right here!"

"What did you want me to do? I'm younger than Tim right now Dick, was I meant to show up on the doorstep? In the cave? Look at me, I can't do anything. The Flash can round up random punks on the street in two seconds, and what can I do? Just stand there and _watch._" Silence fell as Dick remembered the words he'd spoken to 'Tom'. So Bruce was a child, was he really a child or just physically transformed? There had been nothing to indicate that he was the self-controlled, imposing character Dick was used to, so that would mean...

Dick bit his lip, unwilling to acknowledge that his words were possibly unjustified, given the circumstances. He barely even knew why his outburst had occurred. Tim's worrying must've got to him over the past few days. He didn't even know what sort of edge he was on till his outburst. "But what exactly is going on here?" he settled for asking. Wally told him. Magic. Weakness equals transformation into an eight year old boy? So it was linked to what, Bruce's psyche?

"Yes, J'onn kinda mentioned something about that earlier on, his mind being inaccessible so we're assuming that's the main focal point of the magic, not that we know how that works you understand." Wally had placed a hand on Bruce by this time to calm the boy, whose chest was heaving in exasperation. Noticing this sent a twinge through the already bemused former Robin. Trust a child Bats to be able to wind him up so quickly, and of all the hell freezing over moments, trust the Flash to calm Bats down. He shook his head internally.

"And the spell can't be reversed," Bruce muttered.

"But it can be broken, right?"

The scowl on Bruce's face melted into uncertainty, "I don't know."

Another surprise right there. Bruce admitting he didn't know something, when did that ever happen? Things were rapidly descending into chaos in Dick's mind. 'So this is what a paradigm shift feels like', he thought to himself. When he had finally wrestled some control back on his sanity, he looked back at his de-aged guardian. Said de-aged guardian was scuffing the toe of his shoe against the curb. Dick's intention to say something was aborted by yet another interruption. Wally, with his finger pressed near his ear came up to them both and said in a low voice, "Wonder Woman thinks she may have found the answer." and a second later the sound of a jet could be heard landing beyond a close of trees.

"Get in."

"You're so bossy sometimes, Princess," Bruce said as he clambered through the open hatch.

"No more than you little man, now come on," Diana seemed strangely cheerful even though the smile on her face looked grim.

"Well this is a turn of events, isn't it?" Dick said to Wally as they followed after Bruce.

The Jet rose and spun off towards the East. Were they heading to Gotham? "Bruce, remember what happened the day we celebrated Superman's birthday? Or tried to at least." Bruce glanced up and looked hard at her. "What about it?"

"Well, that plant. The Black Mercy. You said it made its victim live in an illusion of their ultimate desire. Their desires were made into their ultimate weakness. Do you know where I'm going with this?"

The child's face darkened as he recalled what had unfolded in his mind under the control of the parasitic plant, almost seeming to revert, if only in attitude, to his former imposing self. "Yes, but all such things are meant to target a person's weakness. I don't see what it has to do with the spell, which pinpointed an entirely different occasion-"

"What did you see Bruce?" Diana broke in.

Dawning comprehension broke over Dick's face. "Your ultimate desire. What have you always wished for?"

Bruce was silent, chin and eyes lowered in thought. Diana carried on, "When the Black Mercy was taken off you, you had to give that up, right? Kal saw Krypton and his family destroyed. I'm just assuming here that you must've seen something similar, and if that was your greatest desire, losing it must have seen like your greatest weakness. But you let it happen to fight off the parasite. 'When you were most weak', isn't that how the spell went?"

The silent boy started, then turned solemnly to Dick, "The Black Mercy couldn't just be pulled off a person unless they fought it. It was a battle of wills, of facing reality. You said.. I was at my strongest, watching them die." He then turned back to Wonder Woman, "You're telling me this is a battle of wills too? That's it?"

Silence reigned over the Jet as they landed in the outskirts of Gotham City. Bruce knew instinctively what Diana was doing. "Crime Alley," he said. "Wally, take me there now," and he was there, somehow with his hand held firmly in Wally's own. They remained that way the next five minutes.

"If you stare too long into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you," Wally half said to himself.

"And the vision no sooner dawns than dies, blazing into oblivion," said a voice behind them as Diana and Dick appeared round the corner. "There is glory even then."

"Trust you to quote the Greeks, Princess," Bruce said, letting go of the Flash's hand and stepping into the yawning darkness.


	16. Chapter 14 End

Chapter 14:

The blackness swallowed him whole, and he stumbled. Void surrounded him so much so that he had to cough to assure himself that he was, in fact, capable of breathing. His heart hammered in his chest, and he was sure it would implode if he didn't have something else to focus on soon enough. He tried humming, but it sounded so eerily loud and out of place he stopped, counting numbers in a whisper instead. "One thousand, two thousand, three thousand," he exhaled, while the void turned into a dusky grey fog. "four thousand, five thousand, six thousand, seve- seven thousand," Two pin pricks of light began to glow, one to his far right, the other to his far left. Bruce watched as they seemed to get brighter and nearer.

Then he heard his father's voice. "Come along Bruce!" he shook his head, the voice faded, moving away from him towards one of the pools of light that continued to grow in size. The glow came from a sole lamppost, a dumpster just beyond it into a dark alley. Shadows cast themselves over the ground, taking the shape of a couple, a string of pearls shining brightly from around the lady's neck.

"Bruce, hurry up!" Bruce spun to face the other direction, frozen at the voice, this time from his mother. Only it wasn't the lady standing near the lamppost with the captivating pearl necklace. This Martha Wayne stood hand in hand with her husband as before, only they were at the Manor and about to head into the gardens, picnic basket tucked neatly under an arm. Now both sets of parents were encouraging him to join them. Two fathers, two mothers, the same words, cajoling him, laughter behind each syllable rolling off their tongue. The heel of his hands pressed against his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the two sights. His knees crashed against the ground, breaths coming out in sharp gasps.

"Eight thousand..."

Cracking open his eyelids, he looked again towards the alley. His parents were still there smiling, looking at him, unaware of the third shadow that was forming ahead of them. Fear shot through Bruce. It would happen again. It would happen again and he'd be powerless to stop it. He could just run to the gardens and play catch with his Father on the other end. He didn't have to watch this. Despite the thoughts running through his mind, he found himself taking agonised steps towards the darkening alley. Gravel crunching under a heavy boot caused Thomas and Martha Wayne to turn around to its source. From behind them Bruce saw the cold, dead piece of metal held in the grip of a man with equally dead eyes, saw the finger come down on the trigger and watched as the hammer swung. As the pearls from his mother's necklace were strewn through the air, nearly translucent in the light, all Bruce could hear was his own screaming.

"Interesting."

The scene vaporised and Bruce was aware of a voice coming from above him. One hand clutching his throat, he stared up into the gleaming eyes of a face with a cruel smirk plastered across it. "Neron," he rasped out. The demon's smile merely grew wider.

"You truly are interesting, Batman. We on this side of eternity have been watching the effects of that paltry sorceress's spell, and have rather been entertained."

"I don't recall agreeing to being the plaything of your kind."

"Oh you didn't have to, the choice was made for you. Besides, we've not done anything more than let the spell run its course. This is all rather like, what is it they have on earth these days, reality television?"

"So why come to me now? Isn't this interfering?"

"I happen to be part of that ancient spell. It was part of a bet, though I can't really recall what it was now. Desires and weaknesses are so closely intertwined for you humans, and know how much I love giving offers that can't be refused," the demon's eyes flared green in amusement, his coiffed blonde hair flowing past broad shoulders swathed in a deep green cape. "I've never seen someone make it to this stage before, though I admit your metaphorical choices manifest in such dramatic ways," Neron continued, "Oh yes, this void you chose to fall into is entirely your doing, within of course, the confines of the spell. As they say, it's all in your head."

"Thanks for the info. Now what do I do to break it," Bruce said, reminded all the more of his distaste for the supernatural. "This evening's entertainment is over."

"It is indeed, Batman," the words fluid as honey seemed to stick in Bruce's ears like crude oil, and he bristled in unmasked annoyance. Neron continued, "You chose your weakness. Most would not. I merely made an appearance to tell you how much we've enjoyed the show, and when everything is over, we'd just like to let you know how welcome you are here."

"Cute," Bruce said. An instant later he blacked out, the sound of cackling echoing through his mind.

* * *

"He's back!" the red glow behind his eyelids told Bruce he'd regret it deeply if he were to open them. He tried anyway, squinting into the ridiculously bright light. Faces swam in into focus, letting him see Wonder Woman, the Flash and Dick Grayson looking intently at him.

"Stop looking at me like that." Glare in place he aimed it at each of them in succession. Wally laughed. Not the reaction he was going for.

"Oh Bats, you really are back!" Now the speedster looked like he was about to hug him. He did not just come out of a psyche targeting spell and demons faced both internal and external to be subject to this.

"West..." his voice was still raspy, but the baritone was back in place, sounding odd after so many days in a high boyish pitch. Flash's grin faltered slightly. Before he could sound out an apology however, Bruce's lips twitched and he said, "Good to see you too." He thought about fighting the hug that he was pulled into, but it was mercifully short, Flash zooming back to his seat in all of three seconds. So the man had some sense of self-preservation after all.

Diana and Dick were smiling at him from where they sat at the other side of the bed. Eyelids somehow heavy again, Bruce looked at them from half shut eyes, and before closing them, sighed out a quiet acknowledgement:

"Thank you."

* * *

"Great to have you back. Really."

Oh Clark, ever the big blue ball of cheese, what would the League do without you, Bruce thought to himself as he fended off yet another hug. This was getting too much, they knew he wasn't the touchy feely type, yet John had got close to one of his macho man-hugs and J'onn's handshake had lasted an inordinate amount of time. Shayera had settled for hugging John instead of him, before both got it into their heads that he was indeed, still dating Vixen, which had resulted in a few minutes of awkwardness to the bemusement of all the company present.

Diana had of course, thrown herself on him, almost in tears, and only released her arms from the back of his neck after many repetitions of 'Princess' in increasing tones of embarrassed annoyance. It didn't stop her from planting a kiss on his cheek though. For a fleeting moment he had thought of returning the gesture, a behavioural incongruity he attached to the after effects of the spell. Thankfully (or not), this was stopped as Zatanna walked past the doorway in the corridor, and he was reminded of all the tricky dances he had and was doing with various... acquaintances. What happened during the Thanagarian invasion was a necessity, an emergency, nothing more. Why had Diana not let go of his hand yet?

For his part, Bruce still felt rather dazed. If he had known he had to hallucinate to the point where the lowest point in his life was in effect relived, yet again, he might have broken the spell ages ago. Of course, the state he was in didn't seem to permit that line of reasoning. It had taken not one, but two of those close to him to help him see that. Sure, Dick didn't know he was comforting an emotionally broken Bruce, but his words had meant more than he had known at the time. Trust Dick to take Bruce's own words said to him so many years ago and build on it like that. Trust Dick to - where was Dick?

Leaning against a wall, and looking horribly out of place even with the eye mask over his eyes, stood his ex-sidekick. No, ex-partner.

"Ready Nightwing?" he nodded to the young man. Diana squeezed his hand one more time before leaving to join the rest of the original Leaguers on their way out of the private teleportation rooms. Both he and Dick made their way to the portals. The Watchtower interior disappeared around them and was replaced with the tall grass surrounding Wayne Manor. As they made their way through the bracken to one of many concealed entrances to the cave, Bruce couldn't help notice something. "What are you so happy about?" he quizzed Dick.

"What, apart from you being back all in one healthy psychological piece? You hurt my feelings Bruce, talking like that. It's as if you don't think I care." Dick's face softened a little, "I do, you know."

"Is this where I admit I'm a stone cold, self righteous git? This is mushy even for you," Bruce said.

"Yes that would make my day, how did you know? But to answer your question, I now know why you keep hanging out in the Watchtower these days." Even in the dark, Bruce could imagine Dick waggling his eyebrows.

"Why, you..."

"How do you do it Bruce? Man, if Selina ever finds out, she's going to be so mad." Oh yes, the man was definitely grinning now. Bruce considered a number of comebacks, from apathetic silence to threatening to tell Barbara all the embarrassing details of the previous Wonder Boy's childhood. However, a smile was tugging away at his own mouth, and as the light of the Batcave shone dimly round the corner ahead, he could only say one word.

"Hush."

_-fin-_


End file.
